Poster Girl
by Nothing You Can Prove
Summary: Twenty-six-year-old detective Max Caulfield gets involved in a case surrounding missing model and actress, Rachel Amber. The enigmatic blonde leaves behind her secret girlfriend, Chloe Price, who might be in more danger than she realizes. Can Max get to the bottom of the case in time? (Detective AU, NSFW)
1. The Poster Girl Case

**Prologue: The Poster Girl Case**

 _Hey there, stranger,_

 _Been a while, I know. God, it's been years since I pulled out my old journals. A real nostalgia trip. I've been meaning to get this down much sooner, but I've been very busy. Not much changes, huh? Always something… but this is important. There's one chapter of my life that has gone criminally unwritten (yes, a pathetic excuse for a police related joke – insert groan here). I can still remember it like yesterday, though. It's something I'll_ _ **never**_ _forget for so many reasons._

 _In all my years as a detective, one case in particular always sticks out in my mind. It might seem strange to some – particularly to those who know my investigation history – but they only know part of the story. Even I didn't know the full truth by the end of it, so much left wrapped in mystery. Still don't to this day. The one case I could never solve. I guess every detective has one. All I know is that it changed my life forever. That might seem melodramatic, but it's true. Every word._

 _It all started when I was twenty-six. No, maybe that's not quite right. It started before then but only came to full fruition at that time. It had been building up for around three years, not long after I made it as a detective. One of my very first cases set me down this path. I lost so much along the way, but later gained something much more precious. Something I didn't even know I needed until it hit me like a gut punch, which by the way ain't pleasant – I know from experience. But we'll get to all that eventually._

 _I've been asked so many times to retell my story of the most prolific Missing Persons cases in ten years. By my fellow police colleagues, my family, the press… everyone, really. Only one other person in this world knows the full unadulterated truth, well as much as we'll ever get. Like I said, some things go out of their way to stay hidden. In fact, this person was at the center of it all, just as much as me. All because of one missing woman._

 _I can never quite tell if fate or destiny have anything to do with it. Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, let's not get ahead of myself. If I'm going to do this, I'll do it right. We'll start from the beginning and work forward, then back a bit and continue that way until we get to the end. What? I like to keep_ _ **some**_ _mystery._

 _Whether anyone other than me will ever read this account, I have no clue. Either way, I need to get everything clear in my head and on paper. This process will be quite therapeutic, I imagine. After what I've been through, I'm gonna need all the help with that I can get. You'll soon see why._

 _So, here we go. After all the silent evasion, this is my – and that one other person's – version of a case that sent shockwaves through America and beyond. The 'Poster Girl' case…_

* * *

 **So, there's a little taster of a new fic I'm working on currently. Not sure how long it'll be yet – at least ten chapters, probably no more than twenty.**

 **Regular updates coming this August, probably around the week starting the 10** **th** **(I'm trying to be good with updates, honest). We'll see how writing goes. I've made a good start already, so here's hoping. As always, I look forward to sharing this story with you and I hope that you'll enjoy it :)**

 **See you soon, NYCP (or Olivia, if you prefer).**


	2. Missing

**So, here we go...**

* * *

 **Summary: Detective Max Caulfield is introduced to a missing person case involving world renowned model and actress, Rachel Amber. Already, there are secrets intertwined with the investigation.**

* * *

 **Chapter One: Missing**

 **Max's POV – Seattle – Morning**

Morning rush, the streets bustling with activity. Everyone hurried to their individual destinations, prime time for road rage. Many people – both driver and pedestrian – were dazed, zombified. They clutched at their morning coffees like a life raft in a sea of sleep, yawning as they crawled along the pavement. A few souls dashed through the lethargic hoard, late. In return for their shoves, they received mumbled insults and threats.

A light mist of rain hovered in the air, inspiring a collective mood of depression. The gray clouds hung overhead like a negative force of energy, sucking all the color from the world. It was the kind of day you simply wanted to remain curled up in bed, unmoving. Unfortunately, most of the population – myself included – couldn't afford such luxury of time.

Instead, I trudged to work that morning along with the rest of them, same as always. Another weary member of society. My feet splashed in the puddles of water forming in the pavement's dips, shoes repelling the worst of the wetness. In my sleep-dazed state, I almost tripped over a slightly raised section of concrete slab – the very same one that nearly always caught me out – cursing under my breath as I managed to regain my balance. I was so damn clumsy.

 _C'mon, Max, get it together._ With that mini-pep talk, I continued down the path until I reached the all too familiar building. It was an impressive brick structure, looming over the bustling streets: Seattle Police Department, North precinct. This place was perhaps more of a home for me than my actual residence. Honestly, I've probably spent more time here than there.

Shaking myself off, I stepped inside and headed to my seventy-five square feet office on the second floor. _And so begins the daily grind._

"Yo, Max," someone called out to me, sounding criminally chipper for it being so early.

I turned as a young man with long, messy brown hair, light stubble and brown eyes approached me. He was a few inches taller than me, as most people were. "Warren, how are you so full of energy right now?"

"Since we're friends, I'll let you in on my secret." He grinned, holding up two huge cups of coffee, passing one my way. "A shit ton of caffeine is the cure all."

I took it from him, smiling appreciatively. "Thanks for sharing."

He shrugged, returning the smile with his own dorky grin. "We've gotta look out for one another, after all. Nobody else will." Those last three words sounded almost sad, the bitter pill we had to swallow.

"Ain't that the unfortunate truth," I agreed sadly, blowing on the steaming large disposable cup of strong, black coffee. The lukewarm liquid oozed down my throat, leaving a pleasant trail as I swallowed. "You are a lifesaver. I can feel my strength returning."

He did a little bow, making me roll my eyes. "I do my best. There's also some donuts in the lunchroom for later, courtesy of Brooke. She sure knows how to deliver."

The future prospect of donuts perked my mood right up. "I'll have to thank her later, too. Can't go wrong with donuts."

"Yeah, livin' up the stereotype," Warren chuckled, taking a mouthful of his own drink, smacking his lips. "Damn, that's some good coffee. Glad they opened that new place down the street."

I nodded in agreement, remembering our old haunt with a less than stellar review. "Yeah, no offense to Sal, but he clearly didn't know what coffee was supposed to taste like."

"And yet, we subjected ourselves to it every morning," he reminded with an amused half-smile, swirling his own coffee.

"Any coffee's better than no coffee. So long as it keeps me awake," I shrugged, taking another sip of my drink. "Not that I'm complaining about the improved quality, though."

"I will miss the pizza bagels… that guy had a knack for them," Warren lamented with a sigh.

That was a sentiment I could completely empathize with. "That was about the only redeeming item on the menu."

"I don't even want to take a guess at how many of those this place has seen come through the door," he chuckled, knowing that he'd contributed at least twenty percent of the bagel intake. "And he damn well knew it, kept the store open at night."

"Guess out mass purchasing of pizza bagels wasn't enough to keep him afloat," I mentioned sadly.

Sal was a really good guy, coffee fails aside. Friendly, talkative and loved retelling the tale of his family business. His grandfather moved over to America from Italy, where he later met his wife, Ada. They tirelessly worked that café up from nothing, passing it onto their daughter and her partner – Lexi and Ralph. After Ralph passed and Lexi became ill, Sal took up the mantle. Until recently, he lived in the upper floor of the café with his long-term partner, Sylvester, and a young daughter from a previous relationship.

Warren's head tilted from side to side, contemplating. "I hear he was bought out, prime real-estate over here apparently. With our caffeine intake, no wonder. I think they'll be sticking around in Seattle."

"No doubt he'll pop in at some point if he is planning on staying in the area," I added with a fond smile. "Probably to bring along various weird and wonderful concoctions he's made for testing. I wouldn't be surprised if he opens another café a couple blocks away."

"Oh, I would bet money on it," he snickered, knowing there was a high chance of that actually happening.

"Detective Caulfield," a familiar voice came from behind me interrupting the conversation, gruff and commanding.

Swiveling around, I spotted an older man with dark hair peppered with specks of gray and a thick mustache, expression set to a default stern frown. The man in question was the Chief, David Madsen; an ex-soldier who had risen through the ranks after his military service. He was a tough bastard – I sure as hell wouldn't want to cross him – but fair to those who earned his respect. Fortunately, I was among those select few.

"You're needed in Interrogation Room Three. Missing Person case," he clarified, turning to Warren with a nod of acknowledgment before leaving.

"You get all the fun ones, huh?" Warren muttered just loud enough for me to hear, tone playfully mocking.

Giving him a shrug, I followed David over to the interrogation rooms – small spaces with very little light, only holding a metal desk and two chairs either side. He handed me a manila folder, giving me time to have a look through a summary of the case file. A picture and profile predominantly, alongside various interview summaries from people of interest to the case.

The missing person in question was a woman; Rachel Dawn Amber, twenty-seven. Long blonde hair, hazel eyes, 5'5, 110lbs, two tattoos – a dragon on her right calf and the outline of a star on the inside of her left wrist. Even I knew she was a celebrity, making her breakthrough in modeling when she was nineteen, then transferring into the acting scene. I'd seen a couple of mentions about her in magazines and from TV shows I'd flicked through by chance late at night when I couldn't sleep. No denying she was pretty… and had plenty of rumors surrounding her because of it. She'd gone missing a few days ago, only reported when she didn't turn up to her recent shoot location.

One thing not many people knew, she had been peripherally involved in a case I'd worked several years ago now, one I seriously wanted to forget…

"Got the girlfriend in for interrogation. Only found out about her the other day. Their relationship was supposed to be a secret – she didn't need that media circus – although Ms. Amber's agent let that slip when we had a chat," David explained, giving me an expectant look.

"I'm on it, sir," I reassured, taking a deep breath as I entered the musty cell-like room. Not inviting at all. Then again, that was the point. It was supposed to feel uncomfortable.

Before me sat a woman: tall, pale, blue eyes, faded chin-length blue hair, a colorful tattoo sleeve on her right arm. She looked exhausted, like she hadn't slept in days. Her head lifted as I entered, the ghost of lightheartedness in her tone. "Was starting to think you'd all forgotten about me."

Sitting down in front of her, I sipped at my coffee, trying to get my necessary daily caffeine intake to function. Last night had been a bad one for sleep; to be fair, it usually was. As a detective, I saw… things that made my skin crawl. There were some truly evil people in the world. Pure nightmare fuel.

As always, I started up the recording for future reference. Introductions first. "I'm Detective Caulfield and I'll be conducting this interview. For the record, can you please state your full name and age, please."

The bluenette seemed reluctant but complied. "Chloe Elizabeth Price. Twenty-seven."

Interlocking my hands on the table, I focused my gaze on the woman in front of me. "Ms. Price, I understand you are Ms. Amber's girlfriend, correct?"

"Yeah, got a problem with that?" she shot back, shifting uncomfortably. Maybe she was just nervous about her relationship with Rachel coming to light… and maybe her anxiety was linked to something else more sinister. It was my job to find out, one way or another.

"Ms. Price, I am not trying to offend or catch you out," I reassured soothingly. For the moment, she was our only unexplored suspect left. There were others currently under suspicion. "I just want answers to help the case. Now, is there any reason you can think of for Ms. Amber's disappearance? Did you have a fight, or is there anyone you can think of who may have a personal vendetta against her?"

"Oh yeah, because it'd make your job _so_ much simpler if I did it, right? Such a fucking cliché," she snapped angrily, frowning.

Running my fingers through my hair, totally not ready for this, I took a few seconds to compose myself. This was not the first hostile witness I'd encountered in my career, nor would it be my last. Honestly, Chloe wasn't that bad, not compared to what I'd already dealt with ever since entering the police force. Still didn't make my job easier, though.

Leaning back in my seat, I crossed my arms. "Ms. Price, if you keep evading my questions, I will hold you overnight until I get answers."

"You do whatever you have to do, Detective. Keep me here forever, for all I care. Only got an empty apartment waiting for me, anyway. One prison's no different from the next." Her rage faltered for a moment, replaced with sad realization.

I'd interrogated a lot of dodgy people in my career, psychos and murderers, but Chloe didn't seem like one of them. If anything, she was a victim of grief. Still, looks could be deceiving. David always told me to never assume anything, no matter how certain or logical. Some people were impressive pretenders, able to manipulate and deceive as naturally as breathing. I trusted his judgment whole heartedly, much more than my own.

Changing tact, I tried to diffuse the situation. "Listen, I can understand your anger…"

She laughed at that, short and sharp. "Can you? Tell me, Detective, has your girlfriend gone missing? Are _you_ worried sick that she might turn up dead? Tortured, mutilated, MURDERED! Buried in a shallow grave, or floating in the river?!" She was shouting now, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her haunting words echoed around the room, hitting us both with full force. Frowning, Chloe averted her gaze, voice now low and mumbled as she angrily swiped at her eyes. "No? Didn't think so…"

The atmosphere awkward, I pushed a box of tissues towards her and took a long sip of my coffee to give her time to calm down. "Please, Ms. Price, I'm only here to help find Ms. Amber. I'm sure you want to find her just as much, no _more_ than we do."

It took a few moments and nearly a whole box of tissues for her to calm down enough to continue. Again, not the first time someone had broken down in front of me. I'd delivered enough bad news over the years, but it never made it any easier to see someone pushed to their emotional limit.

Exhaling shakily, Chloe rubbed her face with her hands. "I… sorry, I just want her back… I miss her so fucking much already. I just want her to come home." That last word was lost to a sniffle.

Looking into her now watery blue eyes, I got back to the task at hand. "We'll do our very best to find her, Ms. Price, but we need your help. Anything you can remember at all could be the key to solving this case."

Clearing her throat, she nodded. "In the past few months, Rachel got involved with a shady crowd. Drugs, mostly. I asked her about it numerous times, but she always brushed me off. The other day, hours before she went missing, we had a fight about it. She stormed out and… that was the last I saw of her." Her bottom lip quivered as she said those last few words.

"Do you know who exactly she was getting involved with?" I asked softly, not wanting to push her too hard but needing more than that to go on.

Swallowing her emotions, she let out a shaky breath and replied. "Some local drug dealer, uh, Frank Bowers I think his name was. Something like that. That's how it started, anyway. Things escalated from there. That's all I can think of now, I'm afraid."

I gave her a gentle smile, genuinely feeling sorry for her. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Price. If you think of anything else, give me a call and we'll arrange a meeting." I handed over a card with my work cell phone number on, just in case. "If there's anything else we need or find out, we'll be in touch."

Pocketing the card, she stood. "I will, and okay."

Escorting her out of the Interrogation Room, I sent her on her way and returned to my office. Boxes were stacked up in precarious piles, papers scattered everywhere. Slouching into my desk chair, I let out a sigh as I closed my eyes. It wasn't even lunchtime yet…

There was a sharp knock at my door, getting my attention. Turning to the sound, I noticed an auburn-haired woman smiling back. "How come you always get to interrogate the cute ones?"

"Figures you'd see it like that, Dana. What would Juliet think?" I poked back, shaking my head.

Dana tapped her cheek, seemingly deep in thought. "Hmm, she doesn't have to know. Besides, I'm only stating the obvious. You gotta admit it, girl."

Despite it being inappropriate, Dana just couldn't help herself from making those kinds of comments. Mostly to lighten the mood and tease me. It was hard to get mad at her for it, and tiring as hell. Better to entertain her for a while.

"No comment," I replied, knowing that lack of a definitive answer would drive her mad.

"I'm taking that as a yes, then," she added with a knowing smirk. "Seriously, you need to get out more, have some no strings attached fun or whatever. I know you're obsessed with work, but once in a while couldn't hurt."

"Or I could just get involved with a snoopy reporter and not be sure if she hooked up with me because I'm a good source of confidential info," I prodded teasingly.

"Ouch, low blow, Max. Alright, I'll drop it for now." Dana held up her hands, chuckling. "But I know I'm right."

Rolling my eyes, I finished up my coffee and pushed it to one side. " _Sure_ you do."

"Seriously though, the whole crew's going out later to the bar. You should come too," she added hopefully, trying to coax me.

However many times she offered, I always declined. "As tempting as it sounds, I'll give it a miss this time."

She sighed over exaggeratedly, hand on her hip. "Girl, you always do. Fine, but next time I am totally going to drag you out of here, kicking and screaming. Mark my words, Caulfield." Waving, she left me to it.

Rolling my shoulders, I typed up the transcript from the interview with Chloe, alongside my own observations while they were fresh in my mind, uploading it to the system. For good measure, I made a shorthand physical version too, putting it aside for later filing. Also, I sent a report to David. The rest of the day passed by slowly, mostly paper work and organizing. Mind numbing stuff. Not every day was full of murder and high-speed car chases.

After what seemed like an eternity, home time came around. Trashing my various coffee cups and food wrappers from the day, I grabbed my jacket and clocked out. Of course, I was always on call but at least I'd be home. A hot bath, proper food and some non-crime related TV. My apartment honestly wasn't much bigger than my office: a small open kitchen, tiny lounge area leading onto a box of a bedroom and claustrophobic bathroom.

Sighing, I heated up some leftovers – Chinese from yesterday, I think – from my bare fridge and slumped down on the beat-up couch, switching on my TV. I flicked through the channels, briefly stopping on the news where Rachel Amber's disappearance seemed to have caused a stir. A handful of people ended up either missing or dead each month. _Guess it only matters when celebrities go missing, huh? Normal people don't count as 'newsworthy' unless someone causes a riot._

Someone I recognized was reporting on the case, Dana's girlfriend, Juliet Watson. The pair had been in an on-off thing for months now. Of course, their professional interests had been a concern at first. Now, they seemed to have found a happy medium, where Juliet was kept in the loop without risking confidential information getting leaked.

Curious to see what Juliet had to say, I stuck with the channel. "The illustrious model/actress Rachel Dawn Amber, aged twenty-seven, has been confirmed missing. Many fans flocked to her agency's office, leaving offerings at a shrine dedicated to her safe return. The charismatic Ms. Amber made her breakthrough aged nineteen and has been in our hearts and minds ever since. The Chief of Police, David Madsen, had these words to say."

The scene changed to the press conference earlier today, David standing at a podium in front of what felt like half the world's cameras. "We are working tirelessly to uncover Ms. Amber's fate, putting our best detectives on the case."

 _Aw, shucks. Thanks, David._ I smirked, switching over to another station to take my mind off things. My relaxation only lasted for around thirty minutes – nearly beating my previous record – before my phone started buzzing. Unable to ignore it, I pulled the damn thing out of my pocket, frowning when I didn't recognize the number.

When I put the receiver to my ear, my eyes grew wide and I bolted for the door without even switching the TV off.

* * *

 **Who was the mysterious phone call from? And what did the caller have to say for themselves? Find out next time…**


	3. Break-in

**Summary: Chloe Price's world has been turned upside down. Her long-term girlfriend missing, interrogated by the police as a suspect... Could it possibly get any worse?**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Break-in**

 **Chloe's POV**

After getting interrogated by Detective Caulfield, who under different circumstances I would've flirted with relentlessly, I left the police station and made my way to a nearby diner/bar to drown my sorrows. I had been here a few times with Rachel before, the first time I'd returned in months.

When I entered inside, the place was pretty empty. It was still early, so it made sense. Most people were either at work or still in bed if they had the opportunity. One or two were already drinking, and I was about to join them. As I sat down at the bar, I recognized the short, chubby girl with short purple hair, brown eyes, and tats.

"Bernie, you're still working here?" I asked, not all that surprised.

This chick had been working at this place for years, ever since she was old enough to. She was a little younger than me, in her mid-twenties. Originally, she came from Oregon but moved to Seattle with her family when she was ten years old. Often, she joked that she would live and die in this dive. With the hours she worked, that might not be an over-exaggeration. She worked hard but made sure to play just as hard. In fact, I wasn't entirely sure that she slept ever.

The short girl beamed at me. "Until I earn my fortunes as a scratch card winner, yup. Or this place gets bought out, whichever comes first. Shit, Chloe. Haven't seen you in here for ages. I was starting to miss that sarcastic wit and relentless flirting." Her expression suddenly turned serious. "Hey, I, uh… heard about Rach. That why you in here?"

Having expected it, I nodded solemnly. "Yeah, just came from an interview. Guess somebody mentioned me and, since I was a secret until now, they felt the need to lay down the interrogation."

Bernie sighed, looking genuinely sad. It made sense, she and Rachel got on really well. "Ah, shit. I'm sorry, man. I hope they find her soon."

"Yeah, well… me too," I managed, trying to keep my voice steady.

There was a moment of silence before she shook her head. "Anyway, I'm sure you didn't come here for that. The usual?"

I stayed there for a while aka. as long as I could, nursing the two beers I could afford right now – and an extra one courtesy of Bernie as consolation – before heading back to my empty apartment. There were fewer people than earlier clogging up the streets on the way back, still busy enough. Honestly, I paid little attention to them. In my mind, I was somewhere else. A few months back, when things were going well for me…

* * *

 _My body shivered as her practiced hands and mouth got to work, knowing all the sweet spots. She took great delight in teasing me, making me beg to be released from limbo. Coiling warmth ran through me, instincts kicking in as my hands grabbed at anything they could find, back arching of its own accord. A moan escaped my throat, accompanied by half-finished pleas. It was both too much and not enough. When she finally granted my wish, she silenced me with a kiss, holding me tight in the aftermath. Her warm breath caressed my marked skin – a mixture of bruises, teeth marks, and lipstick._

" _I really put you through your paces today, huh?" Her voice was intoxicating, addictive like a drug._

" _You… always do," I mentioned through breaths, head resting back against the pillow._

 _She had the broadest smirk on her face, pleased with her ability to get me into such a state. Even after all this time, I wondered what she saw in me. With her ever increasing status and popularity, she could have pretty much anyone she wanted now, could've before too, and yet… she'd chosen to stick with me. I never asked, too scared to find out the answer. It would never live up to my imagined reasons. Reality rarely did._

 _Our relationship had been… complicated. We'd agreed to keep it open, so long as we were transparent about it and came back to one another at the end of the day, which we always did. Honestly, I had been skeptical at first, crazy jealous. After agreeing, I realized it was probably the best thing for both of us. Most of our encounters ended up being shared anyway, Rachel mostly bringing over cute women for us to play with. It kept things interesting._

" _Only because you like it," she chuckled flirtatiously, pulling me in for another kiss, one I was more than happy to accept._

 _Whatever the reason she stayed with me, that was enough. As curious as I was, I didn't need to know… or so I kept telling myself._

* * *

Before I knew it, I was back on my street at the door leading into my apartment building. The place was still a shithole, even more so after all these years, but memories were worth more than looks. Sighing, I fumbled around for my key and entered the foyer, checking my mail quickly. Nothing but junk mail and bills… what was I expecting?

Walking up the stairs – the elevator was broken – I reached the third floor, Room 3… aka, mine and Rachel's apartment. She could easily afford a nicer place, but this was where we met, back when she was still struggling to rub two pennies together. That's where it had all started. The tattoos she had, I'd done them for her being a bona fide tattoo artist and piercing specialist – my main source of income. I also did odd jobs on the side, anything that paid and I could do. Once Rachel was earning the big bucks, money didn't matter so much.

When I reached my apartment door, I froze finding it ajar. I'd _definitely_ locked it before coming. Cautious, I peered inside, eyes widening at the state it was in. It had always been a bit of a mess, but this… Somebody had thoroughly ransacked this place. Not sure what to do, I just stood there, staring. Who had done this? And why? Was it related to Rachel's disappearance?

On instinct, I found myself reaching for my phone and the card I'd been given earlier. In a reflex action, my fingers dialed the number and held the phone to my ear. It rang for a moment, finally being answered.

" **This is Detective Caulfield,"** the vaguely familiar voice replied.

"Um, this is Chloe Price. You interviewed me earlier about Rachel Amber." Extra reminders never hurt. I had no idea what she'd done the rest of the day; her brain was probably fried from paperwork.

" **Ah, Ms. Price,"** she repeated, a hint of recognition in her tone. **"How can I help?"**

"I… just got back to my apartment and… it's been trashed," I explained, keeping it short and sweet.

There was a split second of silence before she replied. **"I'll be right over. Where do you live?"** After giving her my address, she spoke again. **"Stay on the line until I get there, okay."**

"Y-yeah, sure. I will." In the background, I could hear shuffling and breathing, a car starting up as the call was shifted to loudspeaker.

" **You still there?"** she asked, a flicker of worry in her question.

"Yes, I am. I can't hear anything inside, so I guess they've probably left by now." I peeked inside again, not seeing any sign of life.

There was silence for a time before I got a response, clearly deep in thought. **"Maybe, but it's best not to assume anything. Do not go inside."**

About fifteen minutes later, a car screeched into the parking lot outside. I moved over to the window in the hallway, not recognizing the dark vehicle. I watched Detective Caulfield step out of the driver's side, walking up to the door.

Her voice came from the other end of the line again. **"I'm here."**

Not wasting time, I made my way down the stairs. "I can see. I'll come let you up."

When I got to the first floor, I opened the door. There she was, clothes much more casual than the dark suit she had been in before – sweat pants and a basic shirt with a hoodie.

She noticed me staring at her attire, rubbing the back of her neck. "Sorry for the lack of decorum. I rushed over here. It's normally a half hour drive on a good day."

That information made my eyes almost bulge out of my skull. She must've really floored it."Don't sweat it. Honestly, I'd be more pissed if you took your time picking out an outfit. Thanks for getting here so quickly."

She nodded, letting me lead her upstairs. When we got to my apartment, she quickly put covers on her shoes and glove. Pulling out a pistol holstered on her thigh, she pointed it at the door as she slowly pushed it open. Sweeping each room thoroughly, she checked the whole apartment and the hallway before relaxing.

Re-sheathing her gun, she turned to me for a brief moment. "Coast's clear," she asserted, going into full on search mode for clues. Pulling another pair of gloves and shoe covers from her pockets, passing them my way, she examined the crime scene.

"Wow, you are prepared," I managed, amazed.

"For my work, yes. Everything else… not so much," she replied, not looking at me as she continued her search. After some time, she turned her attention to me. "Hmm… has anything been stolen?"

"I… don't think so. TV's still there, laptop too, although if anyone wants that piece of junk, they're welcome to it." Using one of the gloves she'd given me, I rifled through one of the open draws, taking out a sock to find a small wad of money rolled up inside. "My emergency cash stash's here too."

"So, probably not a conventional robbery then…" Her blue eyes moved to the rug in the bedroom, the corner of which was slightly scrunched up. She crouched down, lifting it up to reveal a loose floorboard.

I frowned as I watched her prise it up with a switchblade. "I… didn't even know that was there."

"Seems that someone found it, and I guess they got what they were looking for," Detective Caulfield muttered to herself, taking a small black notebook out of her back pocket and writing something down. Then, she took out her phone to photograph the evidence.

"So, what now?" I prompted, not sure what I was going to do next.

"Well, you can't stay here. This is a crime scene and it's not safe. Anywhere else you could crash for a while?" When I shook my head, she seemed to be considering something.

Taking her phone, she led me out of the apartment and made a call. **"Chief, it's me. No, we have a problem. Rachel Amber's apartment has been trashed and someone's taken something."** A slight pause. **"Yes, Ms. Price is here."** She gave me an uncertain glance. **"No, she doesn't have anywhere to go. She can't stay here."** Listening for a while, her expression turned resolute. **"I understand, sir."**

"So?" I pressed, eager to find out what was going to happen.

Detective Caulfield pocketed her phone again, turning to me. "For the time being, you'll be living in a witness protection flat. You may be in danger, so best to cover all bases. Anything you need desperately? The less we interfere, the better. We can provide you with the necessities."

Surprised by the suggestion, I slowly nodded. "Uh, just my money and… a photo."

She let me gather my things – the most important being an old photo of me and Rach, now in a cracked frame – leading me back out to her car as the core forensic team arrived. She gave them a solemn nod, a girl with dark red-streaked hair wearing white coveralls approaching us. "Max, what happened? The Chief marked this as urgent."

Detective Caulfield, or Max as I had just found out her first name was, glanced over at me before turning back to the woman. "It's all connected to the Rachel Amber case, Brooke."

"Ah, that explains it all. Usually only gets flagged 'urgent' if it's a mass murder or political shitshow." Her dark eyes turned to me, curious. "And… is this a witness?"

"Kind of, yes. She found the door busted open," Max clarified, giving me a reassuring nod. She and Brooke moved out of earshot, discussing a few things about the case in a hushed tone before we finally headed over to her car. "What a day, huh? Oh, you can call me Max, by the way. Less of a mouthful than 'Detective Caulfield'."

I got in the passenger's side, still a little shaken up. "Yeah, just use Chloe for me, too."

The journey back was fairly quiet, just a few spatterings of small talk here and there. Honestly, I wasn't in the mood for a conversation. In less than a week, my long-term girlfriend had disappeared without a trace, I'd been interrogated by the police and my apartment trashed.

Eventually, Max pulled into a parking lot outside a small apartment complex much like my own. We got out, climbing the stairs. When we reached the right floor, she led me into a tiny apartment. A musty smell lingered on the air, lessened when she cracked open a window.

"Nobody's been in here for a while so… doesn't get aerated much," she explained sheepishly. "While you live here, if you need anything just let me know. How are you for money?"

Thinking it over, I shrugged. "Well, I have access to mine and Rach's joint account. Although, I don't know what they'll do with it now she's missing."

"We'll make sure they keep it open. If money ever does become a problem, just say and we can figure something out." It was then that my stomach decided to let out a huge protesting grumble, timely as always. One of Max's eyebrows raised in mild amusement. "Guess takeout is in order, huh? Right, so…"

As she turned to leave, I felt an overwhelming urge to stop her leaving. "Wait…"

Pausing, she glanced back over her shoulder at me. "Yeah?"

One thing was for sure, I didn't want to be alone right now. "Would you… stay for a while. I… I'd like some company for a bit."

Turning around fully, she nodded. "Yeah, sure. I can stay for a bit. I was just gonna go get you a couple things, actually. Wasn't about to leave you quite yet."

"Oh, uh… thanks." I felt a little embarrassed for jumping the gun. "I'll, um, order shit while you do that, then." Fumbling around in my pocket, I handed her some cash. "Here." Looking like she was about to decline, I pushed it closer towards her. "Please, I don't want to put you out of pocket when I have this lying around."

Sighing, she accepted the money and headed out. While she did that, I whipped out my phone and ordered some pizza. She came back before it came, plates and beer in hand along with a bag full of essentials – shower gel and shampoo, towels, toothbrush, bed stuff, food for tomorrow, so on so forth. Out of every way I had figured I'd end my day, this was not one of them.

When the delivery came, she went down to get it and I grabbed a couple of newly acquired beers. We dug into the pizza – which was pretty good I might add, loaded with cheese, vegetables, and meat – watching the TV to fill the silence. I watched Max lick her fingers clean, finishing off her second slice. She sank back into the couch, sighing as she took a swig of her beer.

"Rough day?" I asked sympathetically, grabbing my fourth slice.

She shrugged, passing me a sideways glance. "Always is. Today was… interesting. You made sure of that. Not a bad thing, I guess."

"Well, sounds more exciting than my day. I spent most of my day in a bar, so…" I admitted, feeling a little ashamed.

Max shrugged, not seeming to judge. "Can't blame you, I guess."

I wondered if it was really fine for her to be hanging out with me right now. "Are you… sure it's okay for you to be here? Like, don't you have anyone to get back to?"

Letting out a soft laugh, she shook her head. "Nope, I live on my own. Have done ever since moving out of my parent's house. Well, guess that's not totally true. There is Lisa."

"Lisa?" I asked curiously.

"My plant," she explained. "Somehow, she survived my neglectful behavior as a teenager. Surprising, really. I take much better care of her now, so no need to call plant protective services against me."

"You know, I never expected a badass detective to be a total dork." Unable to help myself now I was pumped full of alcohol, I allowed myself a slight smirk. "And a cutie, too."

"Ha, I don't know if I'd go _that_ far…" she replied, looking a little flustered.

"Hmm, I would." It might seem like an odd time to flirt, but I needed a distraction. And Max was pretty hot, honestly.

This close, I noticed a few scars on her face. The most visible ones were on her right eyebrow, another on her top lip, a long one on her left cheek and the last running horizontally along her neck. Wincing slightly, I wondered where they had come from. Probably on the job. Another shocking discovery, the tip section of her left ring finger was missing alongside a scar suspiciously shaped like a jagged 'J' on the back of her palm. Something I had been too distracted to notice earlier.

Before I had the chance to press, she shuffled off the couch to her feet. "I, uh, have a few things to take care of now, so… I'll be heading back."

"Oh, y-yeah, sure," I stuttered, clearing my throat. "Thanks for hanging around."

She offered me a genuine smile, one that suggested a much softer personality under the hard, rugged exterior. "No worries. It was… good to talk to someone for a while."

"I hear that," I agreed as I walked her over to the door.

When she entered the hallway, I was expecting her to turn towards the stairs. Instead, she walked up to the door directly opposite and took out a key, shoving it in the lock. The door now open, she turned to me with a small smile at my dumbfounded expression. "Oh yeah, guess I forgot to mention, I live across the hall."

* * *

 **Is there a reason for Max living so close by? Find out next time.**


End file.
